Redefining Home

Now, I am “homeless and unaccompanied,”

But these shallow words are borrowed, presumptive.

Displacement has brought support and security.

Such contradiction is deceptive,

But it is no mistake, and I have no regrets.

A whim, a risk, a chance

To leave the known and begin again.

Now I am resilient and strong,

These words I have earned.

 

Then, I lived with a man called my father

In a place called home:

A dilapidated trailer bursting at the seams to conceal

The broken sink, the cracked bathtub, constantly threatening to collapse

As portions of the flimsy floors and concave ceiling already had,

The putrid smell of neglect,

The layers of dirt and decay too stubborn to be removed

Seeped into moldy walls from years of inattention.

 

The Manipulation of a woman whose life was motherhood

Whose heart was filled with love for her children, for me;

Whose mind was ill with addiction and something less explicable;

Whose love I felt through cracks in the chaos;

Manipulation by a man whose life is a trail of estranged children

Whose heart is hardened, corrupted by love of self

Whose mind is weakening with age

Whose power lies in controlling the weak.

 

My mother would be absent for weeks, sometimes months at a time

Forgotten by my father in some mental hospital, detention center

Or seedy shack with fair-weather friends who disappeared with the high.

 

I remained with my father for two years after her death;

I wanted to hold onto everything that she touched,

Desperately trying to keep intact the world graced by her eyes

Instead I saw her influence confined into a box, discarded

Only salvaged tatters of memories linger.

Alone in the hazel sea

With no relief from the piercing blue sky

I could only focus on distraction:

Freedom, or something like it,

Blissful, dead-end sedatives,

Numbing instead of healing.

Gone for days at a time,

My father only taking notice

When the fridge became empty

Or his dirty laundry was piled too high.

 

Now, I have found sanctuary

With my mother’s family who have become my own.

I have been accepted with open arms

By my aunt, the kindest, most headstrong woman I know

Who took me shopping for clothes,

Something so simple,

Essential, but foreign to me;

By my uncle with a compassionate, jovial heart

Who bought me grape juice when I mentioned that it was my favorite;

By my cousins who accept me as a sibling and a friend.

Gestures of normality, thoughtfulness, and welcoming

Like the illumination of dawn after insufferable night.

 

 

Now, I live with my family in a charming little home on fourteenth street

With functional plumbing, sturdy walls,

And the simplicity of cleanliness.

All of which I will never take for granted.

Change has come abruptly, unusually, but fortunately.

And I will embrace it.

Home is no longer a source of shame or hesitation,

But brings pride and elation.

I am resilient, strong, and lucky as hell

To have had a second chance at family

Who has guided, supported, and fought alongside me

To plan a future brighter than my past.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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